


Fly Me to the Moon

by sayonaraearthling



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Aliens, Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Relationship, Family Drama, Gen, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, alien!Kageyama, despite the title this fic does in fact not contain frank sinatra, two dorks try to raise a small child: the fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-13 09:01:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9116149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sayonaraearthling/pseuds/sayonaraearthling
Summary: “So what you’re saying is, some random five year old just fell from the sky. Landed on a mountain you justhappenedto be on. And you just decided to take this weird alien kid home with you, and now he won’t leave.”“That’s pretty much it, yeah.” Oikawa sighs, casting a side glance to the boy sitting at the kitchen table, downing his third glass of milk today. Since when did he become a single father?--In which Oikawa and Iwaizumi discover an alien by pure coincidence and it’s nothing like how it is in the movies. It’s nothing like it at all.





	1. Enter Stage Left

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly I don't even know what *vaguely gestures* _this_ is. Enjoy.

Oikawa Tooru saw this coming months ago, should have expected it sooner honestly.

“I thought you were different, I’m sorry.”

“You seemed so cool when I first met you, but that’s my fault for expecting.”

“I don’t know, you’re so much different than what everyone else made you out to be.”

It happens so much he should be used to it.

Oikawa heaves a sigh, trying not to make himself seem too obvious but failing when Nozomi – his soon to be ex-girlfriend, apparently – pauses mid-rant and shoots him a sour look from underneath her thick red bangs.

The acrid taste of burned charcoal fills his mouth the second he meets her large doe eyes, he tries to squash down the tight squeezing in his chest with an air nonchalance. In the end he ends up wincing when the bitterness on his tongue flourishes throughout his mouth and increases tenfold.

“I know this is hard for you, Oikawa-kun. It’s hard for me too but…” Oikawa whips his arm back out of reach when she attempts to make a grab for him.

_Bullshit._

Charcoal mixes with red hot cinnamon as he simmers with annoyance at the sheer audacity of the woman before him. Thinking she suddenly had the right to console him now of all times.

Nozomi bristles, the snow crunching loudly when she childishly stomps her boot into the ground, glowering at him the entire time. Oikawa wonders why he ever thought that was cute.

“I don’t know what your fucking issue is!” The gentle, meek façade she always worn around him drops, “I’m trying to be civil when _you_ were the one who was being an ass the entire relationship, as if you had any right.”

_Ah, here she goes_. Oikawa tries to remember how many times he’s been through this. He’s not sure, he lost the motive to count after the fifth time.

Tooru stays rooted to his spot, the harsh winter breeze moving his hair softly away from his flushed cheeks that have become oh so thinner the past few weeks. The deep breath he takes in through his mouth helps sate the burning on his tongue. He just wants to go home and sleep.

“- and you never answer when I call or when I want to meet up for a date – like who does that?” She’s rambling now, hand fisting through her dyed hair and he can tell without even looking at her that she’s just fishing for more bait. “- You don’t even answer me back when I tell you I love you!”

“That’s because you don’t.” He finally cuts in.

Nozomi’s features buckle right before she opens her mouth, “Wha… what? What are you talking about?”

Oikawa broke his gaze, preferring to rest his eyes on the festive Christmas decorations adorning the street opposite of the park. They went with regular white lights this year, instead of the usual red and green. “You say you love me like it means anything, as if it were some magic word that could just make me interested in this relationship. Before we started dating in October you hadn’t known me at all. You still don’t know me. That isn’t love.”

Nozomi’s face was paler than Oikawa had ever recalled seeing it, as if her blood was shrinking away from his very presence, her lips almost ghostly from the cold.

“Truthfully, I didn’t love you either.”

He turned back to her, his eyes cold and his expression unforgiving. Oikawa imagined that her heart was breaking right about now, shattering into tiny pieces almost like the illusion of him she had built up in her head.

The slap is loud and clear when it meets his cheek, resounding with a clap that leaves a large red welt right below his eye. It stings enough to make him flinch but other than the taste of iron leaking into his mouth Oikawa doesn’t feel a thing.

Nozomi storms off into the distance with a reminder to “go fuck himself” – her words not his – when he drops down to pick his glasses up out of the snow without a single glance in her direction.

His glasses aren’t that broken, he muses. Maybe missing a screw somewhere since now it rests a bit awkwardly on his nose when he tries to put them back on. But at this point in time, Oikawa just can’t find the urge to care, really.

The brunet decides against the glasses, replacing them for his phone as he swipes through his contacts with frozen fingers.

He scrolls all the way down to Nozomi’s name to delete it from his phone before swiping back up and pressing the call button under the name Iwa-chan.

It’s late at night and exactly three days before Christmas and knowing him, Iwaizumi would probably be out rushing to buy last minute gifts or held up the bakery Oikawa’s family owned. Despite knowing this and the fact that he knows he’ll be getting an earful of complaints Tooru calls anyway. Iwaizumi always answers when he calls, no matter what the situation.

Iwaizumi picks up on the third ring.

“If this is your twisted idea of a booty call I swear I will wring your neck.”

A laugh bubbles up from Oikawa’s throat like a newly sprung leak, quiet and timid at first, starting and stopping again, and growing louder in volume. He rolls his brown eyes up to the cloudy sky, biting his lip slightly and scrunching his face up tight when he hears himself echo off the surrounding buildings. However, it doesn’t stop the deep shaking in his empty chest, nor does it soothe the dull ache in his head.

Distantly – a mere buzz in the back of his head – he hears Iwaizumi frantically ask if he’s alright and any other time he wouldn’t resist the opportunity to poke fun at his best friend but at the moment he just feels numb, his fingers, his feet, his cheeks and especially his heart.

“Nozomi broke up with me, Iwa-chan.”

The line goes silent. Oikawa’s eyes feel wet, like a dam that’s about to overflow but that’s silly isn’t it? It’s just the snow getting into his eyes.

He could honestly care less about Nozomi actually, girls like her were a dime a dozen to put it harshly. Believe it or not Oikawa is tired of the hordes of girls chasing him, giving him presents, and outright fawning over him – he’s pretty sure someone established a fan club for him in high school. He enjoyed it at first, getting more chocolates than he could eat on Valentine’s Day, until he realized they didn’t actually like him but the idea of him.

Oikawa Tooru, captain of the volleyball team, top twenty of his grade, and the smile of an angel.

That’s all they could see.

They weren’t there when he lost to Ushijima.

They weren’t there when he blew out his knee in his second year.

They weren’t there when his mother fell and he needed help taking her to the hospital.

Oikawa in middle school was young, naïve and ever so pleasing, Oikawa in high school questioned what he was doing wrong, Oikawa in college realized that it wasn’t him but them.

“Oikawa holy shit, answer me!”

Oh that’s right, he was on the phone.

“Sorry, sorry, Iwa-chan. I was thinking.” Tooru relents.

“That’s rare.”

“Rude!” He barks.

“Hey, where are you right now?”

“I was at the park, I’m walking to the bakery now.”

“Good. I’ll be waiting outside then.” Iwaizumi finalizes with what the brunet likes to call his no nonsense voice before he hangs up.

The snow stops falling and the sky clears up by the time Oikawa arrives at the bakery. His eyes sting from crying and his nose feels like it’s about to fall off but he can’t resist beaming at the welcoming sight of Iwaizumi standing outside the brick building with his telescope strapped to his back.

“You look like shit.” Iwaizumi acknowledges, handing him the scarf Oikawa forgot to take along with him.

“Gee thanks, Iwa-chan.” He grumbles under his breath, reluctantly putting on the scarf and nuzzling his face into the soft fabric. “So where are we going?” He tries to ignore the strong macadamia flavor he always tastes whenever he talks to his best friend.

Iwaizumi gestures to the telescope on his back. “I heard Mars and Venus are visible, Saturn too if we’re lucky.”

“Iwa-chan have I ever mentioned how much I love you?”

“Please shut the fuck up.”

“Give me a kiss Iwa-chan!” Oikawa opens his arms wide in a hugging gesture and puckers his lips comically to the point that he almost resembles a fish.

“Fuck off! Leave me alone!” Iwaizumi takes off running to which he chases.

He falls twice on the icy sidewalks but despite his aching behind and his bruised elbow, Oikawa is feeling better than he has all night.

 

 

 

Climbing a mountain right after it snows probably isn’t the best idea, it’s suicidal actually. But after years of sneaking out late at night to go stargazing with his age old telescope and Iwaizumi trailing ahead, the two know their way around the mountain like the back of their hands.

Oikawa sighs wistfully as he remember those days. Sleepless nights. Bruised knuckles. Sci-fi movie marathons. Stealing his dad’s beers and drinking just one too many. Trudging up mountains under the moonlight. The feeling of satisfaction when they reach the top with scrapped knees. Stargazing with blurry eyes and not a fake smile to be seen.

Oikawa misses those late nights of his childhood.

His thoughts are interrupted when Iwaizumi grabs his arm in a vice grip, it feels like he’s trying to cut off his circulation by sheer force and when he goes to voice this he’s stopped by Hajime’s other arm pointing up to the night sky.

If he didn’t know any better he’d say Iwaizumi’s face wasn’t blue because of the cold.

He’s not sure what he’s looking at entirely – a shooting star, a small plane maybe – but there’s something, _something_ wrapped in blinding light and fire, falling straight down in the general vicinity of the mountain, aka straight towards them.

The two hold their breath in anticipation as they watch the object fall beyond their sight past the line of towering trees further up in the mountain.

There is no bracing themselves.

Almost as if a switch was flipped the ground beneath them begins to quake violently, the vibrations are so strong that Oikawa can feel his knees rattling in his jeans from the force. The noise that follows is magnitudes louder than any form of thunder he’s ever heard, accompanied by the deafening chorus of trees falling one after another.

Fear settles in his stomach like a boulder, it’s heavy and the burning in his lungs from lack of air only makes it worse. Suddenly he’s not getting enough air, why does it feel like he’s not getting enough air? His chest is practically heaving and yet the burn is still there. He can’t hear anything except the sound of blood rushing through his ears and the flat tone insistently ringing in his head.

In his shock, Oikawa barely realizes he’s beginning to slip. His shoes are sliding back further and further against the stone steps covered in ice and snow and even if he wants to move he can’t because he can’t even feel the lower half of his body. Just as it seems like he’s about to fall back completely Iwaizumi grabs him and hastily hauls him into the bushes to their far right (slipping a bit in the process) before both of them could completely lose their balance. Oikawa latches onto the sleeve of Iwaizumi’s coat desperately as he prepares for the worst possible situation.

The shaking doesn’t last long.

“What the fuck was that.” Iwaizumi’s voice cuts through the silence as he sits up and pulls his legs from the inside of a bush.

“I have no idea, was that a plane?” Tooru let’s go of Iwaizumi to awkwardly pull himself out of the foliage he was thrown on top of. His knees are still shaking.

“Don’t know, don’t care. I’m leaving.”

“Wait, we can’t just leave!”

“Watch me.”

“Iwa-chan! Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!” Oikawa runs up and makes a grab for his friend as he’s brushing off his pants, preparing to make his way back down the steps they just walked up. “Hear me out, what if there’s someone up there and they need help, we can’t just abandon them.”

“Oikawa did you see the height that thing fell from? There’s no way they’re alive, even if there is someone there.”

“Even more of a reason to go!” Tooru reasons, “No one is going to come up the mountains this time of year, it’ll take forever for the body to be discovered.”

Iwaizumi’s hazel eyes stare into him as if silently challenging him, after what feels like hours of staring, Hajime relents, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Screw it, fine.”

“I knew you’d listen to me Iwa-chan.” The brunet drawls.

“You have five seconds before I throw you down these steps myself.”

“Fuck. Shit!” Oikawa curses as he slips and falls to his knees in his hasty getaway from Iwaizumi.

 

 

 

The summit appears as though it’s been dragged through hell and back. Dozens of trees are overturned in every direction and misplaced rubble litter the ground without a care. Speechless at the sight, the two stand stock still as they take it all in.

A frown decorates Oikawa’s face as his hand simultaneously makes it way to his chin, scratching and stroking at the faintest patches of stubble there as the gears turned in his head.

What could have possibly caused this? It couldn’t have been a plane. No. If it had, the fuel still left inside would have ignited on impact and there were no signs of a fire whatsoever. He immediately ruled out the possibility of a satellite, the thought of it was just plain ridiculous, a satellite would be blatantly noticeable due to the large size and also improbable.

Distantly a part of his brain screamed aliens, a UFO crashing, crop circles maybe. Oikawa face palms in reaction to his own thoughts. Now was definitely not the time.

The sound of a groan nearby perks Oikawa’s interest.

“Oikawa, wait, you can’t just walk-” Iwaizumi yells after him when he catches Tooru briskly walking off on his own in search of the voice, climbing over a particularly large tree that had fallen over.

“Shush for a second, Iwa-chan.” He holds up a finger up to his friend without looking in his direction.

The voice sounds again.

“This way!” Iwaizumi follows behind him like a lost child when Oikawa races off through a heavily clustered area of debris.

The sound leads them to the very edge of a gaping crater that had obviously not existed before.

The ground is hot, very hot. Steam billows from the crater, the thin white smoke and the loss of his glasses make it exceptionally hard for Oikawa to investigate from the distance he’s at. The brunet pays his best friend no mind when he begins yelling obscenities at him when curiosity – tasting faintly of black tea – takes over him and he begins making his way down the steep slope of the crater.

Dirt and mud stick to his hands and knees as he descends further and further down into the crater but he pays it no mind. It’s not as hot as it feels from above but sweat still gathers at the nape of his neck and seeps uncomfortably into his collar.

When he finally reaches the bottom, the heat is nearly suffocating, almost as though he’s encased in a sauna. But from here he can make out the telltale signs of a body. A somehow miraculously alive, human body.

“What’s taking so long, Shittykawa?!”

“A body! I found a body!” Oikawa twists around to yell over his shoulder, “I think they’re still alive, come down here!”

He turns back to study the body in front of him when he hears Iwaizumi beginning to make his way down.

Mud and grit covered the fallen body, caked on over raw pink flesh speckled with what looked to be blood. Their chest heaved with effort as if breathing alone was a challenge in of itself. Just looking at it was painful, Tooru could only imagine the state of pain this person was in. And even though they seemed to be in pretty bad shape, surprisingly no bones appeared to be broken, just a large gash running from the middle of their stomach to right below their shoulder blade.

“Fuck its dark.” Oikawa jumps when he hears Iwaizumi by his side. He didn’t even hear him walk up to him.

“I know.” He recovers. “Hey can you turn on your flashlight? My phone is dead and I want to get a better look.” He’s answered with a nod as Iwaizumi fishes for his phone, tapping the flash on his camera.

_It’s a child_. Oikawa can’t help but realize.

The cut running around his side is jagged and rough, blood ran down in rivets along his sides, pooling into the ground below him. Purple and blue harshly decorated his other side along with small scratches here and there, probably from the fall, but it was nothing compared to the one connecting to his shoulder.

Looking closer, blood also ran down from his hair line and painted his eye, matting his hair together as it quickly began to dry.

“Holy shit.” Hajime whispers at the gruesome sight, his hand tightens its grip around his phone.

Oikawa is quick to kneel to the ground, whipping off his jacket in the motion. He presses the cloth against the most notable injury, the large cut, in an attempt to stop the bleeding. The boy beneath him lets out a strangled gasp of pain that they both try to ignore when Oikawa presses harder. Dark liquid seeps into the fabric and he’s almost positive he’ll never get the stain out, he really liked this jacket too.

Iwaizumi snaps him out of his stupor when he drops down to his knees to help. He holds the child down, attentively trying to avoid the cuts and bruises on him, when he begins to weakly thrash around.

“I, I think the bleeding, at least for now.” The brunet mentions, pulling back the jacket to poke at the injury, “We should take him back so I can wrap it up completely, help me put this jacket on him.”

“Why not drop him off at the hospital, seems a lot simpler.” Iwaizumi argues, clearly not comfortable with the idea of them taking responsibility of whatever consequences could come along.

“Or don’t help me I guess, that’s cool.” Tooru murmurs under his breath, “But yes Iwa-chan, let’s just explain how we found a random child that just fell from the sky and is somehow still alive. And we’re no way related to him at all. They’ll think we’re baked out of our minds, or kidnappers at best.”

The spiky-haired boy huffs, “We can just drop him off at the front then.”

“He’d bleed out by the time someone sees him. I stopped it temporarily but not for good, plus do you see these bruises? He wouldn’t be able to hurt us anyway.” Oikawa leans back, dusting off his blood-crusted hands. “Help me get him on my back would you?”

“Before you do, take my jacket at least, you’ll freeze walking around like that.” Iwaizumi rips off his over coat (getting his arms caught in the process), pointedly jabbing at his friend’s sweater and button up shirt.

Oikawa takes his time putting on the coat while Iwaizumi wraps the kid in the soiled jacket. He must’ve passed out at some point during their conversation as he’s unresponsive even when Hajime accidentally presses on a rather large bruise on his thigh.

Oikawa stands up, “Okay I’m good, give him to me.”

Rather than answer verbally, Iwaizumi hauls the body (almost like it weighs nothing) onto Oikawa’s back, his hands wrapping around his thighs to accommodate the otherwise limp body.

“So what are we going to do with him?”

“Hm, stitch him up, maybe let him sleep on the couch for the night I guess. At least until I get to question him.”

In an odd way, despite the day’s events, he’s not tired at all. Relaxed, content seems like a better fit. The body on his back does well to keep him from shivering just by the sheer amount of heat he’s radiating – is that healthy? He should be worrying about how he’s going to nurse a child back to full health but his mind is blissfully blank. At least until Iwaizumi finds the will to smack him with a passive aggressive threat to own up to his actions (he’s already mentally preparing himself.)

Tooru laughs, he can’t help himself. It’s a weird situation to laugh at but instead of the barren, empty sensation he felt just hours ago, he just feels warm. Warm like the notion that Iwaizumi will always be there to pick him up whenever he trips and falls.

A full bodied red velvet washes away the bitter aftertaste of charcoal and cinnamon left on his tongue.

_It happens so much I’ve gotten used to it._


	2. The Gateway Effect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the feedback I got last chapter! I honestly wasn't expecting it, so I'm really excited to post this. Essentially just a gateway chapter as we move to thicken plot just a little. And just a mention but you haven't noticed so far, Oikawa has a rare form of synesthesia where he associates objects/emotions with taste. The next few chapters should be longer so at least there's that.

Oikawa is exhausted.

That’s putting it lightly. Thirteen stiches, two packages of gauze, and an entire of container of icy hot (that he had found in the back of their medicine cabinet) later left him with little to no energy left and gave Tooru bags that made him resemble a walking zombie.

Pick up a random alien child from the mountains, past Oikawa said.

It would be cool, he said.

He wishes he could go back just to punch himself.

It’s not the fact that he stayed up ‘til the crack of dawn tending to a child’s wounds, which had been somewhat painless since the kid was out like a light. It wasn’t that he was delegated sole caretaker by Iwaizumi since apparently he needed to learn responsibility or something like that. It was something along the lines of him being impulsive but what does Iwaizumi know?

It was the fact that he has no clue what to do from here on out with this kid once he wakes up, that is, if he does – Oikawa is praying that he didn’t accidentally murder a child.

It’s not like he can just pawn him off to some random orphanage, he’s an _alien,_ who knows what might happen? He’s seen enough alien movies to assume the poor kid would end up in some twisted government facility. Oikawa would never be able to wash off the guilt if something like that happened, at his expense no less.

Of all things, Tooru hates – and he means _hates,_ not having his wits about him. (It’s up there on his very long list of irritating things right underneath facing Ushiwaka in an official match.) It doesn’t help that his room also currently feels like the ninth inner ring of Hell thanks to the broken heater and a child that _should_ be resting on the couch, holding onto his leg like it’s his favorite teddy bear.

What… What is this even?

Oikawa slowly pulls back his comforter to stare at the actual living furnace clutching onto his pants, he gets that the pajama pants are soft and fuzzy – which is why he’s wearing them in the first place – but this is just ridiculous, how did he even get here with his injuries? He shouldn’t be able to stand!

Tooru ignores his twitching eyebrow and his growing impatience to actually get a good look at the kid, something he didn’t really pay much mind to last night.

He doesn’t really look that different from any other human kid, really. He’s tall, a bit lanky even with full cheeks giving the image that he’s around five years old, six tops. His frame is sturdy, enough to somewhat fit what little of Takeru’s hand-me-down’s he has laying around the apartment. But even then, the boy still falls on the skinny side.

His jet-black hair fell down in a perfect bowl cut around his head and _oh my god that’s atrocious, I’ll have to fix that-_

“Shit!” Just as Oikawa moves to brush the hair out his face to get a better look at his face, the boy’s eye’s snap open causing Oikawa to startle so badly, he ends up leaping out his bed and crashing to the floor.

Not even seconds later, Tooru’s bedroom door slams open, a frantic Iwaizumi sprinting in, toothbrush in one hand and his mouth covered in foamy toothpaste.

Hajime has the poor kid in a headlock faster than his sleep-deprived brain can process and _holy shit this is going downhill really fast_.

“Iwa-chan! You can’t just- Oh my god.” Oikawa quickly gets up to intervene but the situation fixes itself before he can even get the chance when the child bites down on Iwaizumi’s arm. Hard.

Iwaizumi flinches back causing his grip to loosen and drop the younger male straight onto the floor. The kid scrambles back onto his feet and makes a beeline straight for Oikawa’s legs, chubby hands grabbing tightly onto his pants and his face pulled into a sneer way too intense for any five year old to have.

“Fuck! He bit me!” Iwaizumi curses, trailing the deep bite marks along his arm.

“Iwa-chan! Language!” Oikawa chastises, pulling the raven behind him in a protective manner.

“So we’re just going to ignore- Y’know what? Fine.” Iwaizumi grumbles, picking up his toothbrush and slamming the door behind him.

Oikawa lets out a sigh, “It’s only been a couple of hours and you’ve already caused me trouble, you know that?” The brunet bushes his bangs back only to find deep sapphire eyes staring at him inquisitively.

“I guess you don’t talk either.” He’s met with a blank stare.

“Well I guess that answers that.” He mumbles, twisting around – leg still trapped in the child’s clutches – to pick up his phone from his nightstand. The brunet swipes through the phone, a scowl forms when he sees his phone notifications.

Nozomi called him again, (despite deleting her number, he regrets the fact he memorized the first three digits of her number) four times to be exact and even had the gall to leave voicemails after each one.

Tooru’s mouth tastes like licorice and it makes him want to spit. He wastes no time deleting the voicemails, the thought of listening to them not even crossing his mind. He’s absolutely _done_ with people like her.

His attention is brought back when he feels the lightest of tugs on his leg. The child stares wordlessly at him, his wide blue eyes are almost unnerving with the intensity of his gaze. It makes the hairs on his neck stand on end.

The raven makes sure he has his upmost attention before he raises his hand, pants still held in the other, and brings it down to his mouth and then back down to his stomach all while maintaining perfect eye contact.

Oh.

What do alien kids eat exactly?

-

Oikawa would like to reiterate, what do five year old alien kids eat exactly?

He bends over further into the refrigerator and shoves aside an expired carton of potato salad as he digs for something edible. Week old cheesecake? Nah, too much stuff in it, couldn’t risk it. There’s grapes but what if he’s like a dog and it poisons him? The last thing he wants is to explain to the cops that his grapes killed a small child so that’s out as well. For a second he ponders going downstairs to the bakery to hassle his mother for some day old bread, but he’s hardly ever done that unless he wanted milk bread, they’d definitely figure out his bluff, especially with the bags under his eyes.

Maybe if he goes out really fast? No, wouldn’t work either. Iwaizumi still hasn’t warmed up to the kid yet, plus he has a feeling the boy would freak out since apparently he has some sort of attachment to him – or his leg at least.

He’d have to rectify that trust issue soon before he has to go to work. And find someone to watch him during the day. Shit. He really should’ve thought this out more. Maybe he could call Bokuto, he did mention having a baby nephew a few times maybe he could-

“What are you doing?”

Oikawa jumps causing him to slam his head on the refrigerator ceiling. He should really stop zoning out.

“I’m trying to find something that won’t make our little space explorer sick.” He explains to Iwaizumi.

“I’m pretty sure the kid has a name.” Hajime retorts casually.

“Yeah but the kid doesn’t talk so for now its little space explorer and Junior.” Iwaizumi gives him an unimpressed look. “What?”

“Nothing.” He sighs, he’s never in the mood to deal with morning Oikawa. “Move, I’m gonna make eggs for the two of us, and “Junior” too I guess.”

Oikawa pouts at the way he mockingly pronounces junior. “I don’t know if I want to risk it though, which is why…” He trails off midsentence, grabbing the first thing he sees and shoving it in Iwaizumi’s face with a dramatic flair.

Iwaizumi grabs the bottle dangling in his face, his expression grows even more unamused when he actually reads what’s on it. “Danimals? Really?”

Strawberry banana Daminals actually, dated to expire next week and has been sitting in the deep depths of their fridge for who knows how long. It was probably bought that one week he didn’t feel like babysitting and let Takeru go on his own to buy snacks for the apartment and came back with four cases of the stuff. That was almost a year ago, he remembers distinctly since he swore up and down that he’ll never let Takeru alone with his money ever again.

“Yes, Daminals.” Oikawa swipes the yogurt from Hajime who simply shrugs and moves to grab a couple of eggs from the fridge.

The brunet places it in front of the child after opening it, watching as the boy sniffs it cautiously before taking a tentative sip.

And then he proceeds to down the entire thing so fast Oikawa is surprised he didn’t instantly throw it all back up.

“See? He loves it.” Tooru boasts haughtily, resting his hands on his waist.

“Sure, whatever.” Iwaizumi mumbles, too busy cracking eggs to pay Tooru any attention.

And while he knows it isn’t a direct competition, Oikawa mentally chalks up an oh-so-rare win for him. Tooru savors the bubblegum smugness that flourishes throughout his mouth.

“It’s been forever since we’ve actually sat down for breakfast together.” He quips, taking a seat in front of the child and pulls out his phone to check his email.

“Great.” He huffs, more focused on making sure the eggs don’t overcook. “I guess it’s going to be a common thing now since you don’t have an overbearing girlfriend to hide from every day?” Hajime questions a bit harshly.

“I guess I’m just like you now Iwa-chan, bitterly single and alone.”

He knows he’s being harsh, he really does. But he can’t help the way it rolls off his tongue before he can stop it. He’s too scared to turn around to see Iwaizumi’s reaction but he knows he struck home when he stops hearing the sound of their metal spatula scraping against the iron pan. Tooru can tell without even looking that Iwaizumi is taking deep breaths, trying not to snap, and holding onto that spatula like it was a lifeline.

Iwaizumi ends up burning the eggs.

The kitchen fills with an empty, awkward silence that Oikawa absolutely _loathes_. It’s become more prominent over the past couple of months and no matter what, he’s powerless to fix it. He pours himself out to Iwaizumi, the one person he can trust most and yes, Iwaizumi goes through the effort of cheering him up. But he never reciprocates, not anymore at least. He remembers when they first moved in together their first year of university. Iwaizumi talked about himself a lot more back then, even the simple things. But now he’s lucky if he can get Iwaizumi to tell him about his day at the bakery with more than a simple “fine”.

“I guess you would know more than anyone.” He hears Iwaizumi mumble, any trace of bubblegum is replaced with cinnamon as he whips back around to face his flat mate.

“You know what-?”

Tooru is cut off with a loud bang, the both of them pause to look at the child now face down on the table and Oikawa wants to groan, hoping him falling asleep on the table doesn’t add to the copious amount of bruising he already has.

He runs a hand over his face, willing himself to calm down and drop the argument all together in favor of scooping up the tiny boy and marching back to his room without another word.

He doesn’t really have an appetite anyway.

 

 

 

As it turns out, sleeping is apparently a natural healing remedy for tiny alien children.

The kid has been sprawled out on his bed, fast asleep for hours now, four actually, and at first he had been concerned. (Maybe he couldn’t eat the yogurt, what if he was like a cat and couldn’t have cows milk?) But after he realized the boy was regaining some color in his face and that some of the lesser bruises were already a lighter shade, Tooru had sighed with ease.

He hasn’t left his room since this morning. He hates to admit that he’s a tiny bit afraid to face Iwaizumi, but it’s true. It’s not like he has a good reason to since he knows Iwaizumi wouldn’t seriously hurt him, he’s his best friend. But just the thought of having to face him, look at him, interact with him is something he just doesn’t want to do, he doesn’t feel ready.

He replays the conversation over and over again in his head. Oikawa knows where he went wrong, he really does. But that doesn’t mean he has to be the one to apologize? Why should he apologize when Iwaizumi was the one who escalated it? He wasn’t the only one at fault.

Oikawa hunches over on his seat towards the edge of the bed, a hand running through his hair and pulling ever-so-slightly.

“What the hell am I so afraid of?”

Maybe he’s just scared that he’s going to wake one day and Iwaizumi and all his things will gone and he’ll _literally_ be left all alone-

His thoughts come to a screeching halt when he feels a warm hand on his arm. The tiny nails digging into his skin is what makes him look up from his lap and towards the boy supposedly sleeping behind him.

The raven’s mouth hung open with lips slightly parted, his brows creased and face tense as he gripped Tooru’s hand harder and harder, the nails creating tiny crescent moons in the process.

Nightmare – Is the first thing to come to mind, remembering the late nights he spent comforting Takeru when he was smaller.

His body acts on pure muscle memory as he goes to scoop “junior” in his arms, wrapping his old, threadbare space blanket around him and pushing his head into the crook of his neck. He runs his hands through the boy’s hair, in a much gentler motion than before, idly twirling the ends and shushing him quietly as he tries to calm him down.

The raven’s features smooth out, but to Oikawa’s dismay the frown still persists.

He looks around almost helplessly around his room. The last thing he wants to do right now is face Iwaizumi after shutting himself in his room but maybe the heat was getting to him? (Mentally Oikawa curses his broken heater.) Or maybe he wanted Iwaizumi? The small boy seemed to be afraid of him this morning, which was justified, but maybe since he was asleep that rule didn’t apply? Children are odd.

After standing around in his room awkwardly for some time – and no sign of the nightmare going away – Oikawa resigns himself to leaving the confines of his room.

The tall brunet shuffles quietly out of his room shutting the door with his foot as to not make a loud sound and wake the bundle in his arms. He finds himself tip-toeing into the hallway, peeking around the corner to see if Iwaizumi is still in the kitchen or in the connecting living room.

The bright flash of lights and loud talking coming from the TV answers the question for him.

He tries (he really does!) not to be awkward and he walks up to the couch Iwaizumi is carelessly lounging on, and plops himself right beside him. He bounces back slightly and sinks almost immediately into the soft cushion, tensing up when he lands closer to Hajime than he had planned.

He knows Iwaizumi is looking at him, he can feel it. Instead of looking up to confirm it, he opts for looking at the TV like he didn’t just drop onto the couch after four hours of radio silence.

“There’s a BLT in the microwave if you want it.” He’s caught off guard by the random statement.

“Oh… Uh. Thanks.” He adds lamely.

He wills his gaze to the TV, not really interested in the movie Iwaizumi had been watching but not really knowing where else to look.

A burly hand obscures his vision causing him to visibly jump in his seat before his brain makes the attachment that it belongs to the man sitting next to him. Iwaizumi cuts him a look as if to say, “What’s wrong with you? Why are you acting so weird?” and he genuinely wants to scream.

 _I’m not the one acting weird!_ The voice in his head protests, sounding awfully like his seventeen-year-old self. _You’re the one who got angry just a few hours ago and now you’re acting like everything is fine!_

But he doesn’t, he sits there and he watches as Iwaizumi works his magic, stroking the child’s raven locks and gently caressing his ears with calloused hands. And just like that, something so simple makes his frown disappear like it was never even there in the first place.

How did he–?

“When I was little my mum used to put me to sleep all the time by rubbing my ears. At some point it got so bad I had rub my ears every night just to go to sleep.”

“Oh, really?” He asks, at a loss for anything better to say. He still wants to be angry, but he can’t ignore the fondness that swells in him because he knows if it weren’t for Hajime being the bigger man and approaching him first, he would have been left with his grudge for who knows how long, as much as he hates to admit it.

“Yeah. Did you come up with any names by the way?” Hajime pulls away to turn back towards the television. “Y’know, besides Junior?”

“Rude. But I did think of a few.”

“Okay, and?”

“Pick one, Tobio or Hiyuu? They’re both spelled the same so…”

Iwaizumi gives him that strange look again.

“Does it have any meaning or did you just like, make it up out of thin air?”

Oikawa thinks back to when he was smaller, before he got into volleyball and he was just a kid wish a strange fascination with space. He remembers shopping with his mother at the little rinky-dink mall they had in their little town. Almost every weekend they’d go there and Oikawa would stop his mom, grab his sister, and dash to the book store.

He’d rush past the children’s section and head straight to the science fiction books, grabbing anything with a title he could read and begging his sister to borrow some of her allowance to buy it.

There was one specific one that stood out to him. It was an old series of comic books he got addicted to the summer before he met Hajime. If you asked him to recall the storyline now he could only remember bits and pieces, but he remembers crying puddles in his blanket fort when he finally reached the very end, the small robot boy dying like the hero he was made to be.

Tooru looks down at the boy in his arms. Despite the eyes they looked somewhat alike in a very uncanny way, the same jet black hair, and even the undeniably rosy cheeks.

Oikawa glances at Iwaizumi, replaying the question in his head. He shrugs, “No. Not really.”

“Go with Tobio, it rolls off the tongue better.”

“Tobio then?”

“Yeah.”

“Tobio it is then.”

Oikawa holds Tobio just a little tighter. He likes the sound of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Astroboy, the comic was Astroboy. Apparently there's a kid named Tobio in the Astroboy comics so I said fuck it and ran with it. Shout-out to that one tumblr blog I follow that posts Astroboy content religiously, your a real G.
> 
> My [tumblr](https://honeynutobios.tumblr.com)


	3. Spice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate this chapter with a burning passion but I had to get this out there so here's a double update to compensate
> 
> Major thanks to [Bren](http://archiveofourown.org/users/safety_dancer/pseuds/safety_dancer) for looking over some scenes in this chapter, if you love Goshiki (or Shiratorizawa in gerneral) go check out her fics <3

Oikawa didn’t like Christmas.

Or rather, he didn’t like the glorified version everyone made it out to be.

As a kid he enjoyed it, his father’s terribly wrapped presents placed carefully under the tree that was decorated to the brim with little trinkets Oikawa and his sister made during recess. He still remembers his mom closing down the bakery for the day so they could use the spare ovens. They’d wake up bright and early just to help and his mother would cackle watching him and his sister fight over whether to make milk bread or curry buns. (In the end they settled on both just to avoid hair pulling.)

They’d open their presents once they finally got the bread in the oven – making the house smell of some sick combination of spices and yeast that Tooru had long since begun to associate with home – and when they were finished, his parents would snuggle up on the couch watching low-budget American Christmas movies while he and his sister played with their new toys.

It was simple.

But at some point things just changed.

The shift had been gradual, so slight over the years that he barely noticed the transition happening until it was completely turned over. It started with volleyball, instead of helping his parents in the morning he’d go for a quick jog instead – that was fine, his parents understood his passion and even encouraged it. Then it was a girl, accepting her confession just the day before he decided to go against tradition and take her to see the lights – his sister wouldn’t look at him for a week after that. The next incident had him in crutches, healing from a knee injury due to over-exerting himself after practice, where he absolutely refused to leave his room. That year had been the worst.

Things just kept piling on and on and suddenly, Christmas wasn’t the same anymore. Yeast and spice were replaced with cedar and peppermint. God, so much peppermint, he loathed the pungent smell with all his will. Late nights at home turned to taking the girl he was dating at the time into the city to see the lights.

This year was no different.

A few friends of his had insisted on taking an hour’s train ride from Tokyo to Ashikaga to see its famous wisteria tree also known as the sea of hanging lights during the winter. It sounded like a good idea at the time – Oikawa muses, blowing into his hands – at least until Bokuto up and spilled to his current girlfriend, Kimiko, who begged to tag along.

And despite Iwaizumi’s disapproving glare, he had said yes and brought her along for the ride.

Oikawa does his best to fake a smile in hopes that it’ll lead to some sort of validation.

“Hey hey hey!” Bokuto’s shout reverberates through the entire plaza, the warm welcome brings a smile to Oikawa’s face but Kimiko frowns at the way passerby stop to stare.

“Yo,” Kuroo calls from behind Bokuto, a gloved hand raised in greeting. “Where’s Iwaizumi? He came with you right?”

“Oh, yeah he did. He went off to find us some food, he said you owe him.” Kumiko’s grip on his hand tightens.

“The sly bastard, still trying to get money out of me.” Kuroo chuckles, “All I did was renovate his bedroom a little.”

“You covered his walls with panties and hung them with Christmas lights when we were away that one weekend. Our electric bill was twice the amount it usually was!” Tooru chastises.

Kuroo smiles coyly, “You can’t exactly prove that was me.”

“Oi, the best I could get were some crepes, let’s get this over with. It’s cold enough as it is.” Iwaizumi interrupts any comeback Oikawa may have planned by shoving said crepe into his chest. He would’ve thought the walk would’ve cooled Iwaizumi down to point that he forgot his anger but by the sharp glare he’s given, its clear Hajime still isn’t over it.

_I guess I just have to wait it out this time._

The four of them (plus one uninvited guest) make their way into the floral covered tunnels. The cold is slightly more bearable in the passageway, with no wind to bite at him and mess up his hair but he’s still chilled to the bone, his hands in particular. One holding onto the crepe and the other stuck in Kimiko’s vice grip, lucky for her she had gloves.

He tries to push away the discomfort he feels in favor of observing the lights. They’re amazing he has to say, the branches hung down gracefully into the tunnel living up to its renowned nickname. It almost felt like he was in a Ghibli movie.

Bokuto’s loud chattering, large gestures, and Kuroo’s hyena laughs fill the tunnel causing people to stop and stare at the unruly looking bunch, and even though this is a situation where he would normally feel embarrassed, spearmint fill his mouth instead. This was his first time going to see them with friends instead of by himself and honestly the feeling was refreshing to say the least. After four straight months of nothing but nonstop phone calls and hassling for his whereabouts, Oikawa was tired. He barely had time to see his friends and when he did Kimiko had to be there, it had been cute at first, at least until he found out the same rules didn’t apply to her.

But she was cute, button nose, large glasses, chestnut hair down to her behind, plump thighs full of love and an aura that just screamed innocence. So Oikawa put up with it.

Iwaizumi didn’t.

That’s probably why he was staring a hole into the back of his head right now, of course if he just didn’t look back, he could just ignore it, right?

“Tooru,” Kimiko let’s go of his hand to tug on his sleeve.

“Hm? What’s wrong, Kimi?” He does his best not to feel guilty over his sudden apathy.

“I don’t like chocolate on my crepes so I’m going to take this one and get something else, okay? Wait for me here!” She doesn’t even wait for his input before she outright snatches the crepe from his hands and wanders off into the tunnel.

“Wait so why was she here?” Bokuto wastes no time in announcing the elephant in the room, his tone full of curiosity. “I thought you two broke up?” He feels as though he’s being choked.

“Apparently not.” Iwaizumi bitterly announces at the same time he says, “No, why would you say that?”

Oikawa doesn’t even flinch at the sour look Iwaizumi cuts him, so he resigns himself to walking ahead of the group, Bokuto hot on his heels.

“But she’s like dating some junior kid in our calculus class!” He pipes.

“The hell? No she’s not, your exaggerating.”

“I’m serious! Even Kuroo saw!”

“I gotta side with Bo’ on this one, Oikawa. She’s been getting real cozy with some kid with a full on buzz cut, Narita or something.”

“So she has a friend, it’s not like she’s actually dating him.” Tooru can feel the sugary tooth-rotting lies flowing off his tongue. “Can we just drop this?” It sounded desperate, even to him.

“Why don’t you tell them what you told me?” Iwaizumi cuts in; Oikawa grits his teeth.

“Ugh, fine. We were supposed to be on a break.” He finally spits out, the taste of black licorice sticks to his tongue and makes him want to puke.

“Supposed to be?” Bokuto parrots.

“Yes, but then she said she wanted to see the lights with us, so I guess we’re not anymore.” He tries to laugh it off and smile but it feels strained and lopsided.

“Dude,” Kuroo starts, “How long was this break?”

“About a month now.” His hand finds refuge in the back of his neck, dull fingernails scratching absently-mindedly at the skin there.

“Bro, I hate to tell you this but that’s not a break. She broke up with you man, she’s just using you.” Bokuto gives him a hard pat on the back, but his pity is the last thing Oikawa wants right now.

“I… I know.” Tooru responds, scratching furiously at his neck. It burns and the pain doesn’t bring any sort of satisfaction but he can’t help himself. He wants to- no _has_ to get his mind off of this.

In… Out. In… Out. In-

A big, rough burly hand lands on the nape of his neck, softly squeezing at the skin there and bars Oikawa from scratching the back of his neck further.

He turns to Iwaizumi, gasping for a solid breath and eyes resembling fish bowls as he stares at his best friend in confusion. Why did you stop me? Why won’t you let me?

Iwaizumi meets him with a steady gaze, one that says, “Cut the shit.” But also, “I’m here for you.”

The cold winter breeze weaves through Oikawa’s bones, chilling him to the point of shivering.

“Hey, why don’t we just ditch her here and go back to our place? I’m pretty sure Kenma and Akaashi were making sugar cookies before we left.” Kuroo claps his hands, completely unaware of the internal debate that just transpired.

Iwaizumi moves his hand from his neck, yet the chill persists.

 

 

 

Oikawa slumps further into couch, his eyes drifting from his phone to Iwaizumi and Tobio at the kitchen table.

He doesn’t know why he thought this was a good idea, letting Iwaizumi cut Tobio’s hair to get rid of that god awful bowl cut that he had been cursed to live with. He flinches at a harsh snip and watches an awfully large snippet of hair falls to the floor. Well it’s not like he had much of a choice, the second he picked up the scissors and announced his idea Iwaizumi had confiscated the scissors and banished him to the couch.

It doesn’t help his stress levels knowing he’ll be the one to sweep up this mess later.

“Tooru! You’re not even listening are you?” He jumps in his seat at the shrill voice of his sister, almost forgetting about his phone.

Takeru closes in on the camera, his face obstructing most of the camera. “Tooru, how come you didn’t come to USJ with us?” From the very corner of the camera’s view he can see his sister squabbling to get her phone back as Takeru runs into what looks like the hotel’s bathroom. “You promised!”

“How about some respect first.” Him and his sister parrot and Takeru’s face takes a sour turn.

“Okay, Tooru- _san_ , why didn’t you come with us? Are you spending Christmas with Grandma and Grandpa?”

“No, I told you before I had to work, that’s why I didn’t come.”

His sister up and snatches the phone back and out of Takeru’s reach and Tooru all but braces himself for the oncoming onslaught. “Tooru that bs and you and I both know it, you’re a personal trainer and you work as a coach part time. There’s no reason why you and Hajime couldn’t come with us _or_ see mom and dad for Christmas.”

“And _I_ told you, that Iwa-chan’s brothers are coming over while I’m at work instead.” The lie rolls off easily.

“Whatever,” she sighs and Tooru feels just a little guilty over lying to her about keeping Tobio’s existence from her. He could really use the help right about now. “Look, I have to go. Ren just came back so we’re leaving. Say bye-bye to Uncle Tooru, Takeru!”

Takeru pops back into the camera, giving a toothy smile and a wave. “Bye, Uncle Tooru!”

Iwaizumi makes his way over to the couch, Tobio trailing behind him as Oikawa ends the call, raising his arms to stretch.

“Who was that? Your sister?” He asks, grabbing the remote to change the channel.

“Yeah, you were right. She was pretty angry about us not going.” Oikawa bemoans. Iwaizumi and Tobio get comfortable, plopping down in front of the kotatsu. He finds it cute the way Tobio glances at Iwaizumi every few seconds, parroting him to a T by leaning forward on the table with his head nested on his arms.

“I told you we should’ve just lied and said he was my nephew or something.” Hajime argues, pushing Tobio’s newly cut hair out of his eyes.

“Yeah but it’s not like we can just take him out so soon, he doesn’t even have any papers. I don’t want to risk it you know?”

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. I can talk to Kyoutani, get him to forge some paperwork for him.” A loud vibrating is heard from the kitchen. “Speaking of which, that’s probably him.” He heads to the kitchen to retrieve his phone, instinctively pushing Tobio back down on his bum when he makes a motion to follow.

Tooru sucks his teeth, making his distaste clearly known, his mouth tastes like soured apples. “I don’t like him, he’s shady. How can you trust him?”

“He’s not shady, he’s just a little rough around the edges. He’s like a little brother so you’re going to have to deal with it Shittykawa.” Hajime finds his way back into the living room, eyes glued to his phone as he taps away at it.

He doesn’t like Kyoutani, not at all, it doesn’t matter to him what Iwaizumi thinks, he’s shady and frankly he couldn’t trust him as far as could throw him. He was just some good for nothing latchkey kid who brought nothing but trouble whenever he came around. Anytime Iwaizumi went somewhere with Kyoutani he would come back sporting black and blue bruises and knuckles spotted with blood (Iwaizumi’s blood or someone else’s he would never knew), and he would dodge any questions Tooru asked about his whereabouts.

It didn’t help that Kyoutani had the longest arrest record of anyone he’s ever seen.

He’d randomly pop in and out of Iwaizumi’s life, one week they’re hanging out every day. The next, Kyoutani is suddenly in jail for stealing cars, caught shop lifting, identity theft, the list goes on. He just didn’t want Hajime to get mixed up in whatever shenanigans Kyoutani took part in.

With the looks he gets from Kyoutani – the few times they met – it’s apparent that the dislike was mutual.

Tooru hums in response, holding himself back in favor of starting another argument.

“Anyway, what did you do to Tobio’s hair? It looks worse than before.” He exaggerates, trying to banish the previous conversation from his mind. “I thought you said you used to cut your brother’s hair?”

“Shut up I did cut their hair, all three of them. And I don’t know if you’ve realized but our hair isn’t exactly luxurious straight.” Iwaizumi not so vaguely gestures to Tobio.

“Wait a second, are you saying that one summer where Kouji had that godawful mohawk was _your_ handiwork? Oh my god!” He bends over and holds onto his stomach as he tries not to laugh.

Oikawa is met with a well-deserved pillow to the face in response.

 

 

 

The rest of the afternoon is proven surprisingly uneventful. It’s an odd feeling, spending Christmas almost like any other day, but with more old cartoons from the 1950’s and a distinct smell of pine – or maybe that was just Oikawa, who knows.

They primarily lay around, most of the day is spent keeping Tobio away from the decorations he put up around the apartment and the presents him and Iwaizumi had put under their awful artificial white tree (he personally thought the tree looked absolutely hideous but it was the cheapest in the store so he took it with a grain of salt).

 Iwaizumi worms his way into the kitchen eventually, baking something that smells way too familiar to be a coincidence when the tone of their dying doorbell sounds through the living room. Several times actually.

Oikawa tries to peek into the kitchen as he makes his way to the door, but of course with Iwaizumi and his big brute body, he wouldn’t be able to see around his thick stature.

“Hey, hey, hey!” The door slams open just as he unlocks the deadbolt on it, revealing Bokuto in all his glory, with wrapped presents held snug in place by his biceps.

“Such grace and beauty, Bokuto. Truly a specimen to behold.” Kuroo retorts, squeezing past Oikawa, giving him a nod in greeting, and poking his head into the kitchen to greet Iwaizumi. “Hey man, what’s up?”

“Huh? Oh hey guys, you’re early.” Iwaizumi looks up, whipping a stray bit of flour on his nose.

Kuroo simply shrugs, leaning against the countertop. “Bo’ wouldn’t stop bugging me about what I think he’ll get for the secret Santa thing. So long story short, here we are.”

Shimizu follows right behind the raven, sporting two bottles of what seem to be champagne in her hands, sticking them in their fridge for later.

Oikawa busies himself by taking the presents from Bokuto to spread them under the Christmas tree. Bokuto plus alcohol equaled a very long night, they had plenty of time to do the swap. Hopefully they got started before Bokuto touched any liquor.

“Oh my, oh my, who’s this?”

Bokuto wanders over to Tobio, who’s sitting at the dinner table, content with a half-filled glass of milk in his hands – the only thing the boy seemed to enjoy besides yogurt and the occasional pieces of bread they managed to feed him when he wasn’t sleeping.

Bokuto stares owlishly at the child who pays him next to no mind, obviously finding Iwaizumi’s fingers working and kneading the dough a lot more interesting, even though Bokuto is taking up at least sixty percent of his field of vision. He’s been a lot more enamored with Iwaizumi lately now that Oikawa thinks about it.

“Oh, that’s Tobio.” Iwaizumi answers simply, nonchalantly turning his attention back to the dough in front of him when Bokuto whips around to face him.

At this point, Tobio has someone attracted the attention of Kuroo and Kiyoko as well. They’re not as adamant as Bokuto is but it’s obvious from even Oikawa’s place in the living room that they’re positively dripping with curiosity. The taste is somewhat salty, leaving his throat dry and parched.

_Should I tell them? It’s not like they can’t be trusted, what’s the worst they could do? Maybe Bokkun would scream and scare Tobio a little, but that’s easy to deal with. Maybe they’ll just think we’re joking and I’ll just pull the “Iwa-chan’s nephew” card if push comes to shove._ He runs through options in his mind, deciding it’d be best just to come clean.

“So this might sound pretty weird, but we pretty much found him– or like…” He trails off, gathering his thoughts. “He found us, I guess you could say.” He recalls.

“You just… found him? When did this happen?” Kuroo asks.

“Well I mean, it’s not that simple, but yeah we found him just a few days ago. On the mountain, you know the one with that overgrown shrine? That one.”

“That’s pretty strange, such a small child was just waltzing around in the mountains by himself at the very least.” Kiyoko jumps into the conversation. “He can’t be older than five, were his parents not around?”

At this point Iwaizumi gives up on the bread, setting it aside to rise as he turns to lean against the counter, listening in.

“Dude, I’m pretty sure that’s kidnapping.” Bokuto whispers harshly at him above Tobio’s head.

“Okay, no, no. We didn’t just up and take him – or well, we did I guess but it wasn’t like that.” Tooru begins. “So like, I was really upset since I broke up with Nozomi-chan, so me and Iwa-chan went up into the mountain just to chill and stargaze together because why not right?”

He doesn’t miss the weird look Kuroo gives Iwaizumi but he continues nonetheless.

“And so we were just walking up and sudden there’s this really loud crash, you know? So I dragged Iwa-chan with me to check out if there was a body or anything. And well, there _was_ a body, just not the kind I was expecting.” Oikawa walks past Bokuto and into the kitchen, grabbing a random glass off the counter and filling it with the tap before he continues.

“So we both figured there’s no way he’s human, not with the way he survived that huge drop – I’m talking at least a ten story high drop from when we noticed him – and even with that just look at him.” He raises an offending arm towards Tobio who busies himself with a salt shaker. “He’s moving perfectly find despite the fact he was nearly immobile when I first brought him back. I mean he hasn’t done any alien-y things like squirting acid or whatever but you know.” He finishes, shoulders sagging as he lets out a harsh breath.

Kiyoko is the first one to break the silence, “So what now then?”

“What do you mean, what now? There’s only one thing _to_ do. Keep him. It’s not like he’ll leave now anyway.” He shrugs, trying to appear less stressed than he actually is. “Plus, with the way he clings to my leg you’d think he’s known me for years instead of a few days.”

Bokuto squints his eyes almost comically, trying to process all the information he had been given in such a short time. “So what you’re saying is, some random five year old just fell from the sky. Landed on a mountain you just  _happened_  to be on. And you just decided to take this weird alien kid home with you, and now he won’t leave.”

“That’s pretty much the gist of it, yeah.” Oikawa sighs, casting a side glance to the boy sitting at the kitchen table, downing his third glass of milk today. Since when did he become a single father?

“Well like, do you need help or something cause I mean you work and all so you can’t watch him 24/7 right? I could help if you-” Bokuto stops abruptly at the deadpan look everyone gives him. “What?”

“I love you Bo’ but I honestly don’t think I have it in me to trust you with a kid, much less everyone else.” Kuroo jabs.

“You guys didn’t even let me finish!” Bokuto whines, “I _was_ gonna mention my sister watching the kid for you since my nephew is around his age but never mind.” He crosses his arms dramatically, refusing to say anymore.

“C’mon Bo’, I didn’t mean it like that,” Kuroo slides in smoothly next to Bokuto and wraps his arms around him, “your great around kids. Remember that one time you went to pick up Shouyou from daycare and the kids hailed you king of the jungle gym just because you bought them ice cream?” The raven gives the three of them a look, explicitly telling them to not even think of questioning it.

A small chuckle leaves Bokuto, his arm finding its way around Kuroo’s waist. “Yeah that was pretty great. What was I talking about again? Right, my nephew. So Hana is like, super pregnant and all so she’s pretty much staying at home all day watching Shouyou and all. I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t mind watching… Tobio was it?” He asks, turning to Iwaizumi who nods in confirmation. “But yeah, she’ll totally watch him for you while you guys are working, free of charge!”

Bokuto plants a peck on Kuroo’s before he releases him to rummage through their kitchen drawers for a pen to write with.

“Bokkun have I ever mentioned how much of a life saver you are?”

Bokuto winks in response, pointing a pen in Oikawa’s direction. “Don’t worry I got you Daddykawa.”

“Please don’t ever call me that again.” Everyone in the kitchen attests to Oikawa’s demand. “But really thanks.”

Oikawa excuses himself from the conversation when Bokuto turns to Kuroo to ask what was so bad about the nickname, to pry the salt shaker from Tobio’s fingers and lift him from the kitchen table. Thankfully the boy is fairly easy to read with his head dangling up and down over the table and stopping to yawn every few seconds.

He runs his hands through Tobio’s smooth locks as carries the toddler to his bedroom. _At least Iwa-chan parted the bottom of his hair right_. He plays with the baby hairs on his neck.

He sets Tobio on his bed, the boy easily complies when Oikawa pushes his shirt up, too dazed to pay him any mind. The brunet pokes and prods at the stitches running through Tobio’s side, who doesn’t as much as twitch. It must’ve healed up more than he thought over the past couple of days, his bruises are pretty much faded at the same time.

Tooru pushes his shirt back down, laying him down in the middle of his bed and rubs along with the back of his ears like he saw Iwaizumi do.

“You’re surprisingly compliant today.” He comments offhandedly at the way the little boy nuzzles his hand.

“Sleepy.” It’s quiet, and hoarse like nails on a chalkboard at best but Tooru still manages to hear it the word Tobio whispers into his palm.

Oh.

Oh shit.

All thoughts of following up with a quip are lost as he gawped at the child beside him. He had honestly thought the child might’ve been mute, or his species was just unable to talk but apparently he was perfectly capable of speech.

He feels oddly giddy. Suddenly all he can taste is butterscotch.

It at least makes both of their lives just a little bit easier, with Tobio being able to talk – or at least learning to talk. He could put him in school at some point without being questioned about his lack of speech and if he got lucky at somewhere along the road he could tell him where he came from – or at least make parenthood just a little bit easier.

Before he can ask Tobio to say anything else, he notices the boy is completely knocked out, a hand holding on gently to his own ear.

Tooru huffs a sigh, content to just leave him be as he slips out of the bedroom and back into the living room where Kiyoko is trying to pry a present from Bokuto’s  iron clutches who, for some unknown reason, was sitting in the corner opposite of the Christmas tree.

Iwaizumi is the first one to notice his presence, tearing his eyes away from the spectacle Koutarou was making of himself to join his side.

“So how is he?” Iwaizumi asks, leaning into his space.

Oikawa crosses his arms, watching Shimizu struggle “He, uhm, he just said his first word – or well like the first word I’ve ever heard him say.”

“Oh shit really?” He had to stop himself from snickering at the blank look Iwaizumi gives him, clearly not expecting the answer he received. “Well, what’d he say?”

“He said ‘sleepy’”

“Oh, that’s it?”

“Yup,” He drawls, “As it turns out he’s a simpleton, he takes after you more than I thought.” He laughs, dodging Hajime’s swipe and rushing further into the room, taking refuge by Kuroo. Said man simply raises an eyebrow and lets out a snicker when Iwaizumi grumpily sits on his other side.

The rest of the night continues simply like that, the five of them settle down to watch whatever’s on tv, (meaning Bokuto stole the remote and changed to his favorite game show). Bokuto ends up switching seats with Iwaizumi when he gets up to check on the bread he was baking – curry bread Oikawa realizes when he recognizes the distinct smell of curry powder and cumin – with Kuroo nestled smugly in his lap.

They nearly forget about the present swap until Kiyoko brings it up from her place underneath the kotatsu.

None of the gifts are that serious, especially when Bokuto and Kuroo are involved and mostly include gag gifts made to disturb one another. He admits he gets a well-earned slap to the back for laughing at Iwaizumi who coincidentally received a 100 position kama sutra book from god knows who.

“You okay?” Iwaizumi ends up nudging him when he stares too long at the present he had yet to unwrap.

“Huh?” He snaps out of his daze, “Oh yeah, it’s just- It’s a really good Christmas this year.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Validate me \o/


	4. Prime Numbers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note! This is a double update, if you haven't read chapter three yet, please do before continuing!

On New Year’s Day, Oikawa Tooru wakes up in a room that isn’t his.

The walls are just a shade too blue and the lighting from the sun hits the room in an angle that shines him directly in the face, making him wince the moment he opens his eyes.

There’s a beat of confusion, where his hungover brain pulses thickly while he catches his bearings. The walls seem like they’re spinning on their own to the point that he has to bury his head into his lap to ease away the dizziness eating away at him. He swallows the bile willing its way up his throat and counts his prime numbers until he’s feeling just a little like himself again.

The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is a pair of socks resting between his feet that is distinctly his.

It’s then that he realizes he’s completely and utterly naked.

Horror dawns on him when he releases the vice grip on the satin bread spread-

Satin.

There’s only one person he knows that owned a satin bedspread.

 _Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around._ He repeats the mantra in his head as if he were five again, cowering in his bed and trying to ignore the monsters hidden in his closet.

He starts counting in his head.

Two.

He takes a deep breath, trying to unsee the tacky cotton candy pink carpet that his feet sunk into.

Three.

His hand weaves through his hair, pulling tightly at the strands. His headache protests at the gesture but his muscles thank him when they relax and loosen just a tad.

Five.

He tries to swallow the tight ball lodged in his throat.

Seven.

He counts his luck short when he hears a short intake of breath behind him. The sound definitely belonged to a female and _not_ the five year old that he got used to sharing his bed with.

Eleven.

He shuts his eyes tight and decides to get it over with. Like ripping off a bandaid right?

Thirteen.

Bright red hair. Long, burgundy locks pin straight down to her waist. Oikawa feels like he might just choke – like he managed to swallow the ball and it got stuck half way through. Just as there was one person he knew who had satin bed sheets, the same person he knew had long, red hair that did not in fact – match the carpet.

He was in Nozomi’s apartment.

He loses focus before he reaches seventeen, too preoccupied with getting the hell out of here. Where are his clothes _?! Oh god please don’t tell me I- I did, didn’t I? There’s no sugar coating it._ He curses under his breath, hopping along the floor trying to fit back into his skinny jeans from last night.

He barely has his shirt on when he runs out the door and into the street. He can only imagine the sight he makes right now, running out an apartment at god knows what time, shirt hung around his neck, keys gripped tightly between his teeth and his jacket shoved hastily under his armpit as he walks up and down the block looking for his car.

Is driving with a hangover his best decision? Not even close.

But apparently all of last night wasn’t either so how much worse could it get?

Oikawa sighs with relief when he finally finds his car, parked two blocks away from where he started, thankfully, with just enough gas to get his ass back home. He throws on the air conditioner just for the hell of it, he really needs to clear his head and if he needs to freeze out in the middle of nowhere in early January to do it then so be it.

He thumps his head on the steering wheel, trying to remember what he could from last night. What number did he leave off on?

He remembers just a little. Hanamaki and Matsukawa coming over after he put Tobio to bed for the night and Iwaizumi still downstairs finishing up his shift at his parent’s bakery. They swept him away with sweet toothed bargaining and thinly veiled promises to look out for him to the point he feels the cavities forming on his teeth. So he goes, off without a single word to Iwaizumi or Tobio.

His brain scolds him, yells from the deepest pits where the light doesn’t shine. He’s making the wrong choice, he shouldn’t be doing this, and he should tell Iwaizumi at the very least.

Oikawa shuts the door and swallows the key where it can never be found. Just to spite himself.

He shakes his head, willing his alcohol riddled mind to stay on track, just this once as he tries to piece together the puzzle from last night. Obviously there are pieces missing but he’ll make do with what he has on hand.

Distantly he can make out this image of Nozomi from last night, bewitching in all her beauty, artificial or not. She carefully plants her seeds, growing like vines around him and sneaking them in little crevices he had never thought possible.

She guides them in a way that brings him to her, right into her clutches and surrounding him with her amorous aura.

He didn’t stand a chance.

Maybe if he hadn’t have drank he would’ve been able to resist her temptations but he’s insistent on ruining any of a good thing he has and twisting them around so he’s made the victim.

He stops there, he doesn’t want to think about what happened next – what he did to her – _what she did to him_. He has enough pieces of the puzzle to make out the picture, he doesn’t want to see any more.

As he turns the key into the ignition Oikawa prays that despite the unlikely circumstances, Iwaizumi is off somewhere (he doesn’t care where) shoveling snow for the elderly who knows – anything to keep him away from the apartment.

Oikawa wills himself to look at the time – just to see how much he needs to prepare for the obvious onslaught he’ll eventually receive. He wants to prepare his best for it.

The digital clock on his dashboard reads 11:48 am.

Oikawa swallows his thoughts and puts his car in drive.

 

 

 

Oikawa smacks his lips, his mouth tastes like something tart and sweetly acidic (it’s not a flavor he particularly hates but he doesn’t enjoy it either) as he teeters outside his building. He fumbles back and forth with his keys as if a plausible excuse for his actions would plop right out of the sky.

Sometimes he hates the fact that Iwaizumi can tell when he’s lying as he can’t smooth talk his way out of a conversation like he would anyone else. He knows leaving and postponing the inevitable would only make his friend angrier; so he counts his blessings, shuts his eyes, and reaches for the door knob.

Except his hand never makes it there.

The door swings open and he’s met face to face with Iwaizumi’s scowling glare. His eyes are pulled tightly down and his face is scrunched in that weird way he does when he tries not to look as upset as he lets on.

Iwaizumi’s large body blocks the entrance barring him from coming inside but from the very corner of his vision he can make out Tobio all soft edges and the very picture of innocence, sitting on the couch in the living room.

Iwaizumi cuts him a hard look, assessing him without a single word but no doubt determining whether he deems Oikawa worthy of entering the apartment. He can practically feel the disappointment rolling off him in waves.

With lack of a better response – or a response at all, Oikawa stands outside looking at the ceiling, the walls, the hardwood floors, and their tacky fifteen dollar welcome rug – anything to avoid meeting Iwaizumi’s sharp gaze.

There’s a beat where neither of them say anything and music from the tv echoes loudly. He imagines they’re at somewhat of an impasse, Iwaizumi pushing and Oikawa backing away. It’s oddly familiar this feeling, it’s sort of bittersweet.

Apparently he does something right today when his flat mate moves from the door way and gives him access to the apartment. Although he narrowly suspects it’s only because he can’t afford to keep him out since the rent is due soon. Iwaizumi hands Tobio (who is full of nothing but curious glances) what looks to be a coloring book from his view in the foyer before ushering him into his room. He stays there for a while and Tooru can hear hushed talking that he can only make out a stray word or two of.

The door closes with a soft click and all appearances are dropped now that Tobio is not around to witness it. Iwaizumi blatantly shows off his anger by making a show of stomping into his space and backing him into the wall behind him.

“I’m going to ask you one question and I swear to god if you lie to me…” He hisses through clenched teeth. His voice is strong and steady, enough to break through any lingering thoughts of Nozomi.

The ball in his throat begins to rear its ugly head, “I won’t, promise.”

“Where the fuck have you been?” It’s a simple question, short and to the point.

“Nozomi’s place… I think.” The admission stings, stings like licorice and unflavored vodka.

Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything, instead he lets off his space; just enough for him to take a deep breath, pinch his nose and recollect his thoughts.

“Okay.” His voice unravels his nerves ever so slightly like the calm before a storm.

Perplexed, he can’t help but ask, “What do you mean?”

“What?” Iwaizumi bites. “Did you expect me to yell at you about how irresponsible you were last night? Scream just to fuck with the hangover _I know_ you have? Yeah no, I’m not giving you the satisfaction.”

Iwaizumi pushes past him and into the kitchen, his heart sinks to his stomach and dread settles in its place when he finally processes his words.

He hears a jingle of keys.

“Wait where are you going?” He reaches out but Iwaizumi is cold and unforgiving and it chills him to his bones. He hardly ever makes that face – like he’s been betrayed somehow and his stomach twists in knots when for the first time that the look is aimed towards him.

“Out.” He huffs.

He should leave it here, let Iwaizumi go out and give him time to cool down so they can have a civil conversation when he comes back and clear the air. He really should and it’s probably what’s for the best.

But Oikawa never really knew when to give up.

So he opts for kicking another skull into his closet full of skeletons.

He makes a mad dash for Iwaizumi, blunt nails and all dig into his bicep in a harsh grip that commands the former to look at him. He’s still here, he can’t – he _won’t_ be overlooked. _**Look at him.**_

The message must’ve been clear to Hajime as he whips around and violently wrenches his hand off his arm without even trying.

“Get the fuck- What?!”

“You’re not leaving.” Not to Kyoutani of all people, he finishes in his head.

Iwaizumi raises a brow at his wording and he can practically see the sarcastic words bouncing around in his head right at this moment. His mouth burns with red hot cinnamon.

“Oh yeah?” Iwaizumi finally speaks up. “Watch me.”

The door slamming is the most anticlimactic thing he’s experienced today, and yet he suddenly feels like his stomach is sliced open and his guts are hanging out for the world to see.

The anger in him vanishes almost like a flipped switch and suddenly regret and embarrassment fill the empty space his guts occupied. He knew that he deserved every word.

“Fuck!” He yells it loud, not caring if Tobio hears, or if the neighbors find it annoying. Fuck this hangover, fuck Iwaizumi, and fuck his goddamn mouth.

It’s nearing one in the afternoon and Oikawa can’t stop himself from dragging his feet over to the kitchen cabinet, reaching deep into one of the cabinets and taking out the bottle of peach schnapps hidden behind the cayenne pepper where Iwaizumi couldn’t think to find it.

He meanders over to the couch, throwing himself onto the plush cushions with a hefty sigh that he had been holding in since he arrived. He unscrews the cap to the bottle in his hands fairly easily, taking a big sip before sinking even further into the couch. His hand weaves its way through his hair as he stares uncaringly at the tv Iwaizumi had left on before he stormed out.

His fingers tighten around the small bottle when he takes another swig.

He hums appreciatively from the back of his throat from the smooth burn that flourishes through his veins and fades into cloudiness that settles in his mind.

Distantly, in the back of his groggy mind, he’s aware of a door opening and shutting. He knows its Tobio finally leaving Iwaizumi’s room – he didn’t even have to look. His feet sheepishly shuffle through the hallway and into the living room as if he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The boy is bad at being subtle though, since Oikawa can clearly hear his socks rubbing against the carpet as he does so.

Oikawa ignores him – grabbing the remote and changing the channel instead. He just simply doesn’t have the patience or the right mind to pass judgement.

The mop of smooth, black hair that peeks over the armrest of the couch says otherwise.

He tries not to give those wide, blue eyes (that gleam way too brightly to be anything but gems) any acknowledgement whatsoever, but it’s hard when his gaze is absolutely burning. Despite the cool color of his eyes, they do nothing but evoke a fiery bitterness in him that he can’t help but loathe.

“Where is Beewa?” He gives him a sidelong glance – just enough to see the stubborn pout on his face – the brat.

Tobio won’t let up, an annoying fact he’s had the unfortunate luck to come across. It’s been pretty prevalent ever since he started learning to speak “I want to see Beewa.”

There’s a beat where Oikawa reins himself in, desperately trying to suppress down the urge that hollers at him to swat Tobio away and squash down his meager hopes like the petty fly he insists on being.

“He’s not here, he left.” He keeps it simple, he doesn’t mention the strenuous relationship between him and his best friend, doesn’t mention the growing rift between them, and he wouldn’t begin to ask Tobio where his first screw up was – because god knows this wasn’t his first incident. No – he shuts his mouth and tries to focus back on the movie playing on the tv screen.

Tobio doesn’t open his mouth again, whether he caught onto Oikawa’s mood or just had nothing else to say he didn’t know and frankly he doesn’t want to care.

The tension he’s held in his shoulders just begins to ease as he loses himself in the old Disney movie playing when he hears the familiar sound of the front door clicking open.

Fuck.

His feet trip over each other and his head twirls left and right when he shoots up from the couch and nearly falls over the coffee table. He’s too hungover for this.

“Tobio!” Nothing but the echoes from the walls answer him back.

The front door, open for all the world to see, just serves to mock him further.

He rushes out the apartment, his head screeching in protest with the way he whips his head back and forth to both sides of the hallway. The glimpse of raven hair rushing around the corner in the corner of his vision proves to be his saving grace. He follows the brief glimpses of Tobio out the apartment complex and into the open street.

“Shit.” He bites his lip, Tobio is nowhere in sight among the vast crowds swarming like bugs around the building.

Oikawa felt the panic start a cluster of spark plugs in his abdomen. Tension clawed at him, showing in his face and limbs, his lungs ached from the rapid and shallow breaths he took.

“Tobio!” Passerby give him strange looks, but none offer to help. He yells his over and over again, searching the stagnant faces hoping that someone would find mercy on him.

“Have-” He grabs the first limb he sees, “Have you seen a little boy, black hair, about five years old? Please-!” The nameless figure jerks away with him with a disgusted look with the way he unconsciously slurs his words.

Tobio is gone, he lost Tobio.

Suddenly he feels like he’s gradually being pushed underwater where even the brightest lights struggle to penetrate. The water feels almost like soup, weighing him down and turning the strangers passing by him into dark silhouettes. It’s cold too, starting from the tips of his fingers and spreading through his arms and the rest of his body until he’s curling in on himself and shaking.

His ears only pick up a dull ringing in the distance and his brain battles between radio static and a repeated mantra of _I need air_.

Salt lines Oikawa’s throat and tongue as he tries to gather any semblance of control he has left. He’s in public, he doesn’t need this – he doesn’t need everyone to see his business, especially when he’s coming apart at the seams.

 

* * *

 

_“Tooru!”_

_“Hey Tooru, look-look at me. I need you to listen to me closely, okay? Big sis going to get you through this.”_

_“You don’t have to do anything, I promise. Just take a deep breath and count with me.”_

_“Two… That's it breathe... Three...”_

 

* * *

Blocks away, a smaller figure weaves easily through the crowds of the city, mindlessly dodging around obstructive legs and torsos before coming to a stop as a glass door nearly collides with his face.

“Oh are you okay? I’m so sorry, did I hit you?” The person emerging pauses mid conversation to rush around and kneel down to his level.

“Kageyama?” The man pauses, tilting his head. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

He smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update might be a little slower, I'm trying to catch up on chapters and working on 2 other projects so please be patient with me!
> 
> P.S. I love comments


	5. Cherry Wine (it's only a paper moon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa is tired, so very tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive! I'm so so sorry about this late update, life promptly kicked my ass but I'm trying to make a comeback slowly but surely! (Also my "D" key has been giving me problems so if there's misspellings that's likely the reason why)
> 
>  
> 
> **Warnings for this chapter: Detailed description of injuries, some vomit/nausea talk, dicks touch briefly**

The emergence of a panic attack always felt like weaving a beaver’s dam. You throw in sticks and twigs to cover up the damage and holes, sealing it as tight as you can before the river bank has a chance to flow. And each and every time it rains, you pray, and you pray that it doesn’t overflow, so you build it up just a little bit more, just in case.

But then there are those times where the wind is just a little too harsh and the current is just a tad too strong and the dam just isn’t strong enough to hold it all in and everything comes tumbling apart before getting washed away downstream.

Rise and repeat.

Although for Oikawa it just seemed like the rain just never let up, never even giving him a chance to breathe let alone build his defenses back up before the next onslaught came around without warning.

Oikawa’s hands are trembling and his legs are weak to the point that he feels he’s just mere seconds from collapsing, but honest relief flows through him when he happens to turn the street corner and spots Tobio in the arms of a stranger outside the flower shop his family happens to frequent.

_Thank god he didn’t wander off too far._

Tobio pouts in the man’s arms, crossing his own as he sizes him up with a steely glare much to intricate for someone his size, “You’re not Beewa.” He tells him, his tone drenched in spite.

The man holding him lets a well-natured chuckle filled with lightheartedness, obviously amused by his blunt nature. “I suppose I’m not. But I’m guessing this “Beewa” is the one that’s been looking out for you since-”

The stranger pauses abruptly as Oikawa approaches them.

He’s dressed in a large sweater that practically swallows him whole, and his hair is a fluffy grey that reminds Oikawa of storm clouds;  he straightens his back and his vibrant copper eyes trail him up and down - obviously sizing him up in the same manner. The man’s arms weave their way around Tobio in the slightest of gestures, as if his flimsy arms would be enough to protect him. But the message is clear - Tooru is not welcome.

Tobio, blissfully unaware as ever sits almost passively as the man holding him watches Oikawa with his seemingly all-knowing eyes, reading him in and out, taking in his greasy hair caked in sweat, the bags under his eyes, and his shoulders raked up to his ears - tense and heavy from the weight of his shortcomings. Oikawa feels like he’s going to be sick.

But, if there’s one thing Oikawa knows he’s proficient at, it’s faking it. Faking a smile and sugar coating his words to the point that they’re sweet enough to draw people in like a fish to water is his forte, he’s in his element.

“There you are Tobio-chan, honestly you can be such a handful sometimes.” He quips lightly, mostly running on autopilot. He slaps on a hasty grin for added charm, despite feeling like his head is going to split into two.

“Ah,” the man’s thick eyebrows disappear behind his fringe in surprise, “Is this the “Beewa” you were mentioning, Kageyama?” He mumbles uncertainly to Tobio, cutting him another wary look.

Tobio, ever so helpful, turns in the stranger's grip, completely unaware of the blossoming tensions between the two of them.

“No, that’s ‘Kawa.” Tobio admits albeit grumpily.

“I’m so sorry, he’s talking about my roommate. A lot of things happened and he ended up having to leave in a fuss so _Tobio_ saw fit to up and run after him when my back was turned.” The story smoothes over his tongue easily, “But I haven’t introduced myself, Oikawa, and thank you for catching Tobio.” He offers out his hand.

The man’s face brightens and for the briefest of moments his grey hair seems to shine silver and his eyes gleam gold under the dappering sunlight. “Sugawara - call me Suga, and it’s no problem at all. I was just worried he was lost.” He settles Tobio down to the ground to shake Tooru’s hand. “Forgive me for being sudden but do you mind if we go somewhere to talk? I just have some questions and talking on the corner of a street in the middle of rush hour doesn’t really seem so appealing, you know?”

Sugawara ends up leading him and Tobio over to a small hole-in-the-wall cafe right down the street. He smiles in that unnervingly charming way of his that makes his eyes glow and his skin sparkle - there’s something off about it - maybe it’s a little bit forced, too strained. Sugawara is too bright, with his pastel blue sweater, grey jeans (that nearly match the color of his hair), and the soft off-white turtleneck underneath. (He radiates an overwhelming amount of light and it almost hurts to look at him directly.)

And then there’s Oikawa, still with his ratty old sneakers on, hair a mess and his brain scrambled like he cooked his eggs. He wonders how Suga - with all his charm and brightness - could even manage to peer into the glaring black hole of negativity that is Oikawa Tooru.

Maybe, just maybe, if he sticks around long enough, he’ll drain all of the light Sugawara radiates just so he can stop looking at him with that irritatingly optimistic smile on his face.

“So,” Suga starts, smile never leaving him as he dumps an alarming amount of sugar into his coffee. “Would you like to go first?” The cryptic smile never waivers.

“What? I don’t… I don’t understand what you're trying to say here.”

Suga doesn’t give him an answer right away, instead he takes the time to tap Oikawa’s untouched beverage - a simple hot chocolate - a light tap with his spoon. Tooru takes the hint, begrudgingly bringing it to his lips and giving it a tentative sip, neither of them bothering to look away from the other. Pleased, Suga let’s out a content hum in response. “Well, you seem to have questions you wanted to ask, am I wrong?” He feigns thinking for a moment when his question is met with an eyebrow raised in distrust, but honestly, how was he supposed to respond to something like that? “I know!” Suga chirps, reaching into his coat, “We flip this coin, heads, you ask first; tails and I’ll go first. Sound fair?”

Oikawa stares in stunned silence, it’s almost as though Sugawara was born with an innate charisma for situations such as this.

This time Suga doesn’t wait for an answer, already lining the dime on his thumb and winking at Tobio, who is suddenly interested, when he bends over the table to get a closer look.

Tooru on the other hand, doesn’t bother giving Sugawara the satisfaction by watching him, uncaring if he somehow managed to cheat or not - he was already at the mercy at some stranger, it wasn’t as if he could suddenly back out now of all times, especially since Tobio was involved.

“Ah - tails!” Suga teases with a lilt in his tone. He reaches over the table to make sure Oikawa sees the coin lying face down on his pale hand. Oikawa distantly notes the stray beauty mark (smaller and more inconspicuous than the one near his eye) on the outside of his wrist. “I guess that means it’s my turn to ask something then.” His eyes drift up and down his figure as if pretending to come up with a question on the fly when He and Tooru both know full well this was all part of his scheme - he has to hand it to him, had he not been cut from the same cloth, he’d be impressed. “Oh I have one. Would you mind telling me how you know this little one? Tobio, was it?”

Said toddler pays the conversation no mind, distracting himself from his boredom by blowing bubbles into his strawberry milk. Oikawa takes it as an advantage, plastering on the sweetest, most sickening vile smile he can manage. He runs his fingers through silky black hair, (two can play this game).

“It’s funny you should say that,” He drawls, his voice dripping with underlying toxins - a subtle threat, “he’s actually the nephew of a good friend of mine, his name is Iwaizumi - or Beewa-chan to Tobio. So I’m watching him for the day as a favor to him.”

He holds his smile as Sugawara simply stares at him, he can feel Tobio’s gaze on him now as well but as soon as he does, he pivots his head back down towards his milk with the hand still weaved in his hair. The shorter of the two adults glances over to him slightly at the not-so-subtle motion, but instead of addressing it, he purses his lips in lieu, idly stirring his coffee - Oikawa imagines that it must have not been hot anymore.

The thought of Sugawara being an off-call social worker of sorts had definitely crossed his mind. He certainly doesn’t blame him for being suspicious and butting in given the circumstances - but it doesn’t mean that Oikawa wishes that he just… wouldn’t. This day has already been hectic enough as it is, he doesn’t want to add “losing alien child to the clutches of the government” to his ever-expanding list of things he’s messed up today. Oikawa knows he doesn’t exactly fit the image of a responsible guardian (even his friends had been reluctant to see it with Takeru,) so he can only image the picture he paints in Sugawara’s eyes.

But Oikawa has his looks and his charms, it’s his selling point - so he plays them off the best he can just like he always has. As much as he wouldn’t admit it out loud, taking Tobio in is something… something that he feels he did right. In the black murkiness of his life, it’s as though Tobio something akin to a saving grace he _could_ be something great. He might be an insufferable brat now and again but the way Tobio has so easily melded his way into his and Iwaizumi’s life like he had always been there in such a short amount of time made the annoyances feel worth it.

So he decides to play into Sugawara’s game.

Suga hums, “Ah really? I was thinking you would say something ridiculous, like, I don’t know, that he popped out of thin air or something. But I guess that’s fine too, give your friend my best regards.” His scathing tone digs daggers into his skin, outright challenging him - daring him to say the wrong thing and feeling all too happy to watch him dig himself into a hole. He’s testing him.

Oikawa has the inkling suspicion that Sugawara knows.

“I believe it’s my turn, Mr. Refreshing.” Oikawa reaches across the table, taking the dime Suga has been tossing round earlier and snaps his hand so that it spins around the table. “You called Tobio Kageyama earlier, that’s a weirdly specific name isn’t it? It almost sounds like an antagonist a character in a video game would have.” The way he poses it isn’t actually a question but more of an interrogation - he knows their cheap game of twenty questions ended the moment Oikawa figured out his little ruse.

Suga blinks. “You caught me.” He lets out a brief chuckle. “There was a child previously under my watch by the name of Kageyama, you see. I, of course, had lost touch with him as I had to leave and come here for… extenuating circumstances.”

“Oh? Where from exactly? I’m sure a small child such as Tobio couldn’t travel such a far distance on his own, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Not unless someone helped him, Sugawara’s facade breaks momentarily as he mumbled sourly into the rim of his cup. He takes a moment to breathe and sets his cup back on the table, it was cold anyways. “Ah, I’m sure if I told you, you wouldn’t believe me in the slightest - it’s a bit farfetched, if you know what I mean.

“Try me.” Oikawa quips, he’s tired of dancing around this one topic. “A lot of peculiar things have happened to me recently. I’m inclined to believe anything nowadays.”

“Peculiar, huh.” Sugawara takes a moment to lean back into his chair, casting a forlorn look out the large expanse of the window beside him. Cars weave in and out through traffic and passersby slow to gaze into their own reflection on the tinted window.

It almost seems as though Sugawara is deflating in the way he slumps further into his seat and the way his smile loses its vibrancy. “You humans call it something weird - where I’m from I mean. Trappist-1f, is what they named it. I think you just discovered it actually, although we’ve been aware of Earth’s existence for ages now.” He breaks his gaze from the window to raise an eyebrow in Oikawa’s direction, as if expecting him to jump up in protest and call him crazy at any given second. “A lot has happened and I needed to evacuate with some others to Earth, I was lucky enough to stumble upon a really patient fellow who took me in and helped me get back on my feet after I got separated. Wasn’t even angry when I tried to attack him at first.” He snickers to himself.

“But anyway, back to my point. I know how to recognize one of my own kind - of course a normal human wouldn’t be able to, but it’s plain as day to me.” Suga stares pointedly at Tobio. “So I’ll ask again… how did you find Kageyama?”

There’s a distinct knowing glint in Sugawara’s eyes, one that causes shivers to rake their way down his spine.

His mouth burns with the taste of dark chocolate and cayenne pepper as he recalls the night to Suga. It’s not something he can forget so easily - the night his life took a sudden turn as he was abruptly thrust into parenthood. His fingers twitch as he remembers shaking nonstop, trying to stitch bloody ends of skin together, the feeling of bile and acid rising in his throat as he tried not to let the grotesque appearance of Tobio’s wounds get to him.

Iwaizumi had held him that night, (his large hands massaging the base of his neck) when he just couldn’t stop shaking and the pounding thought bouncing around in his head just wouldn’t lighten up.

He looks down at Tobio who’s playing with his straw from out the corner of his vision. Touching a hand to the back of his neck, he can’t help but think that he would do it all again if it meant finding Tobio once more.

They sit in silence for a good while after Oikawa finishes his anecdote, both of them opting to listen to the hushed chatter from the other patrons in the enclosed coffee shop, Sugawara seemed to be thinking, from what he can see, what with the way he picks at a stray string poking out his sweater and how he refuses to lift his gaze from the tabletop.

Oikawa dares to sneak a peek at his phone while the other is distracted, His screen shows up blank - so Iwaizumi hasn’t texted him yet. Why was he wasting his time here? Suga already proved he wasn’t a threat and he had more pressing matters that he could be attending to right now - not entertaining an alien (god what a mouthful) on his daily life.

The brunet pockets his phone, sliding out from the booth and giving Tobio’s thigh a slight pinch to grab his attention. “Well, we should really be going. Thanks for the drinks.”

“Wait!” Sugawara is instantly out of his seat and making a desperate grab for his sleeve. Biting down on the inside of his cheek, Oikawa gives an incredulous look at the hand stretching his sleeve; it doesn’t take long for him to get the message, and release his hold. “Just… wait a moment.” his face evens out with every large breath he takes an any trace of panic that may have slipped through is gone like the wind. “I need to know… are you serious? About Kageyama, I mean.” His thick brows furrow, and his eyes gain an almost bitter glow to them. “How do I know you have his best interest at heart? Can I trust you with him? Because if not…” Sugawara squares his shoulder, his chin lifting to look him square in the eyes. Determination resonates throughout him, and it leaves Tooru with an odd cherry taste.

“... I’ll have no trouble taking him from you”

It’s vivid, in that exact moment. The way Sugawara’s eyes push and pin him down to his seat and threatens to drown him with his selfishness and desire. It’s thick and murky in an odd way that swells up in his throat and constricts his Adam’s apple to the point where it stings to swallow - hurts to breath even. His lips quiver with the weight of his crumbling composure and his stomach twists as Sugawara’s will rocks him to his very core.

The feeling is unfamiliar and foreign, leagues different from the way Iwaizumi pries him open with large, calloused hands and a sneer signature to only himself that filled him with a grounding sense of belonging.

(He pauses to take a long, shuddering breath.)

Oikawa had been torn apart, so many times, so man that he honestly couldn’t remember the last time he felt… whole, complete - like someone deserving. People walked in and out of his walls, tearing his chest open and exposing them to whoever wanted to bear witness before he could even prepare himself. “Why do you keep going back?” He would berate himself, late at night when his demons likes to wander around in his head. But the answer ever made itself clear.

Maybe he was putting too much faith in the wrong people. Hoping someone - anyone - would stay, stay and help him sew his chest back up, hold him until the wound stopped bleeding and kiss the scar it left.

Then again, he had always been an avid dreamer in that sense.

Instead, he fruitlessly gave piece after piece of himself to the ones who took it and ran, never to be seen again. And all he would be left with was a gaping wound as he chased after the remnants of what could’ve been.

It was different with Iwaizumi, who would tear off his shoddy stitches and fit them together properly, realigning them before Tooru dashed off again and undid the efforts he made.

It’s then Oikawa realizes - as he looks up at Sugawara - he hates (more than anything else) being torn open by anyone who isn’t Iwaizumi Hajime.

“Don’t assume things as if you know me.” Oikawa hisses deep in his throat, and it gets Suga’s attention. “Tobio is my responsibility, and mine only, don’t think you can waltz in and take hims from me.” He slides himself the rest of the way out of the booth to tower over the other. “But it was nice talking to you, thanks again for the drinks.” Carefully spoken, his voice carried a tone of finality to it that puts a pause in Suga’s tracks. No matter how hard he tries to push again his walls, nothing would budge him, not now. Nothing would change his mind.

Sugawara doesn’t say anything, he stands there with his sky blue sweater and wavy silver hair with the light from the window shining on him. He can feel his beady little eyes sticking to his back as he gathers Tobio up, and makes his way back out into the crowded streets.

Sugawara doesn’t make a move to stop him.

 

As it turns out - Oikawa realizes just as he finishes settling Tobio up in his car to take him to Bokuto’s sister’s place - that Suga is a lot more crafty and mischievous than he gave him credit for. Tooru fingers the ripped piece of paper he found lodges in his pocket just beneath his apartment keys - the number for a Sawamura Daichi (he feels as though he knows that name from somewhere) scribbled on one side, and on the other, is Sugawara’s own. How the hell did he even?

A chuckle finds it’s way through him, chalking it up to some strange alien magic, who knows. He should have known that wasn’t going to be the last he saw of the alien. Not at all.

He pockets the number for later, and while he doubts he’ll even need to contact either of them, the same probably couldn’t be said for oh-so-persistent Suga so he might as well just prepare himself for whatever’s to come.

  
  


He drops Tobio with a handful of hasty apologies to Bokuto’s sister for the inconvenience of looking after his little handful before he’s off again. (He makes a mental note to himself to scold Tobio properly sometime later for blatantly walking out the apartment.) He sends text after text  to Iwaizumi the second he gets back to the apartment and realizes that his best friend _still_ has not returned.

Oikawa knows he deserves this - he really does. The tangy bursts of lemon in the back of his throat wouldn’t dare let him forget. But he just wishes that now - when he’s finally deciding to be the bigger person that Iwaizumi would at least acknowledge him.

By the fifth time he presses call, the call goes straight to voicemail.

Unsure of what to do next, he sends Iwaizumi a simple message that he dropped off Tobio and that he’ll be waiting at home.

With a lack of a better solution, Oikawa drags himself to his room. He throws his phone on his bed and plops down face forward right next to it. He turns his ringer to max (he knows more than anyone else that if Iwaizumi calls and he doesn’t pick up how much it’d make this predicament that much worse) and curls up around it in the middle of his bed. His heater is still broken and his nausea rises again with the sweltering heat emanating from the vents but as he buries his nose into his sheets - the soft vanilla fabric softener he washed them with is the only thing that seems to ease and lessen the acidic lemon that stings his throat.

He doesn’t get much rest.

  
  


The sound of keys jingling in the door shake Oikawa awake. Drowsily he slips out of bed and slides into the hallway, the door loudly slamming shut with a bang makes flinch. From the darkness of the hallway, Tooru watches as Iwaizumi painstakingly turns on every single light he possibly could - slamming and banging anything in vicinity left and right before he finally emerges from the living room and they meet eye to eye.

Iwaizumi is tense - it’s clear by the way his biceps are flexed and his shoulders are set a few inches higher than usual, and the way he won’t even hold eye contact. Oikawa smacks down his desperate urge to flee - he has to be the bigger person this time.

“Iwa-chan, look, I…” He loses his train of thought when he actually gets a good look at Iwaizumi. On each arm there are large red welts that he knows will only darken within the hour - he’s also sporting a black eye that’s striking against the gray paleness of his face. Sweat sticks to his face almost as though he had been running - an to add insult to injury his lip is split almost as though it it had just stopped bleeding. “Wh-what were you doing? Where _were_ you?”

Iwaizumi doesn’t even give him the courtesy of a passing glance - Oikawa can’t help the way his chest twinges when Iwaizumi simply scoffs at him.

“This isn’t a joke! Look at you! Do you even know how much of a mess you look right now?!” Panic begins to bubble over and take a hold of his senses and all he can taste is a bitter combination of a sourness he can’t place; cayenne pepper, and Iwaizumi’s macadamia nut.

Iwaizumi, furious, shakes off the sympathetic hand Oikawa places on his shoulder. “Does it look like I give a shit?!”

Iwaizumi’s temper reminded Oikawa of dynamite, once the sparks started to go off and sizzle it was already too late to duck and take cover as it blew up everything in its vicinity - including himself. He knew he should stop - give up and allow Iwaizumi’s fire to fizzle away before he got himself burned. But instead he resigns himself, letting his brain cut out word for word like broken shards of glass.

(A pattern is beginning to form.)

Oikawa feels like he’s crumbling, it grasps and pulls at his throat until it feels like it’s mere seconds from bursting the longer his best friend stares at him like he’s some stranger - like he has something to hide; because there’s so much - _so_ _much_ he wants to say at the moment. “I’m just trying to help. Look at you!”

“Oh so _now_ you want to help? I’m not your plaything to deal with however you so fucking please.” Iwaizumi’s voice booms, shaking the walls like thunder and prickling his skin from the force of it.

Oikawa chokes back a sob, “When have I ever said that?”

“Well you sure as hell showed it the other night when you just up and left!” Iwaizumi’s fist finds its way into the wall, rattling it. “ _What?!_ ” He challenges, daring Oikawa to say the wrong thing. Oikawa nearly flinches in turn from the scathing tone but forcibly holds his ground as he moves to block the entrance to his room.

“Move.” Iwaizumi spits - face mottled red and teeth bared.

He takes a deep breath around the marble he has swelled in his throat, “No.”

Iwaizumi seethes. “I swear to _fucking god_ Oikawa.”

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what the hell has been going on with you and Kyoutani lately.”

“Oh that’s what this is about - I take someone under my wing and suddenly you don’t have enough attention? Grow the fuck up Tooru.” Oikawa’s grip on the door frame tightens.

“And look at what he did to you!” He gestures wildly to the fist he’s cradling. “Is he really worth it?”

Iwaizumi lunges at him, grabbing his collar and pinning him against the wall beside his door. His head takes the brunt of the impact and stars flash from beneath his eyelids for a solid second before he regains his bearings. Iwaizumi gathers up close to him, pinning him down with his stare as he adjusts himself to get a better grip on Oikawa’s bone-thin wrists and traps him with his leg between his.

Oikawa’s skin burns from the heat Iwaizumi emits.

“Don’t you fucking-!”

He can’t help himself from challenging Iwaizumi, even though he knows it means getting burned. “Don’t I- what?”

The brunet doesn’t fight it - instead he meets his best friend’s gaze and holds it, despite how much the radiating heat stings his eyes.

Macadamia nut and smoke fill his lungs as Iwaizumi leans further into his space - chest heaving from exhaustion until they’re nose to nose, sharing the same breath. (Whether it was from the yelling or throwing him around had yet to be determined.)

He catches Iwaizumi’s hazel eyes flicker down to his lips for the briefest of moments and a shiver runs down his spine in an effort to contain the desire running rampant through his veins and… _Ah, so this is what this is._

Oikawa, contrary to popular belief, has always been a bit of a people pleaser. He fakes a smile to please others, pretends to laugh at jokes that never really hit home, and lends money whenever he felt like he owed someone for running an errand for him. An if he owed anyone anything, it would be Iwaizumi without a fault. So why not indulge himself a little while his back is against the wall?

Why not let himself get burned?

Iwaizumi’s fuse sizzled and simmered like a firework, his tempter burning hotter and hotter taking in everything that it could, including Oikawa, who let him without a trace of resistance.

Just like that, his lips are meeting Iwaizumi’s.

Iwaizumi bites at Oikawa’s lips, growling low and menacing in the back of his throat, drunk on the feeling of **_more_ **. A shudder runs through Oikawa’s knees all the way down to his legs as Iwaizumi pauses to trace bites down to his collar bone - stopping to suckle at the threadbare skin there and leaving a violent red splotch for all to see.

Iwaizumi’s hands come into play next, roughly groping and twisting in the back of his shirt while his other hand pushes the door behind Oikawa open and shoves him inside, himself not far behind.

The door slams behind him with an air of finality.

This feels familiar - Oikawa realizes - thinking back to late summer nights in high school where they would sneak up into the mountains, drink themselves silly and explored, touched, experimented until the early hours of the morning where they had to part ways, only for the cycle to repeat once again.

He still remembers the faint traces of macadamia nut and something else that was distinctly Iwaizumi from those days long passed.

As he’s brazenly thrown onto Iwaizumi’s bed, finding himself once again, caged underneath his best friend, surrounded bodily and mentally as Iwaizumi takes his breath away with each searing kiss; he can’t help but feel something akin to a trapped animal.

The thought it fleeting, as hands weave their way underneath his shirt, and takes him apart piece by piece. The bitter taste of charcoal that seems to be stuck in the back of his throat continues to get stronger and stronger the more Iwaizumi touches him.

  
  


It’s not until Oikawa wakes up the next morning, nearly dry heaving from the acrid taste of burnt macadamia nuts and charcoal that he realizes the implication of his actions. He gags, looking over at Hajime, sleeping peacefully and oh so blissfully unaware and… it’s, too much.

Iwaizumi loves him.

Oikawa takes a moment, untangling himself from the bed sheets and running a hand down his chest littered with Iwaizumi’s claim. He pulls at his hair, hoping that the pain will ground him and some way, that he’ll wake up in his own be, curled up with Tobio and his broken heater and laugh it off as a dream after over-exerting himself.

He looks back down at his hand, at the little strands of hair scattered between his fingers. He feels like he’s going to be sick.

_I can’t do this._

Swallowing down the bile rising in his throat; Oikawa counts his prime numbers, grabs everything he can think to carry, and is gone before the sun rises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a train wreck, but I blame it on being rusty as hell, hopefully as I ease back into my groove the chapters will gain in quality! Thanks again to those who support this work, your comments really meant a lot to me and helped me strive to churn this chapter out.


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